02.13.2004
bissextile
fop. endochronology. titular.
had coffee, free breffest. they brung it up on a cart, i think, i heard something (could've been a pack mule with wheels). lots of bready things. everyone here is scared of carbs, now, but me. muffin, coffee, bagel, fruitball.
it's a word, is the thing. i had no idea. a regular commentator here and off-to-the-south-of-me friend sent me that word in a message (the title, I mean, do you hear me? are you hear me?) and i thought he'd made it up. it still makes me laugh, even if it's an actual, real word. and applicable!
les claypool is in my ears, he's got a frog brigade and a purple onion. "the lights in the sky keep calling my name they're calling my name i think they're coming for me."
i don't know what's going on anymore. sometime recently i stopped paying attention. i haven't read a newspaper for years, but for a long time i'd try to read reg'lar news online from somewhere or another. i shortcircuited to savetime, began picking up things from the periphery, and whatever weblogs i stumble on. what a skew. now i'm mildly aware. there are politicians who amazingly still all sound like dicks. stories about what happened in 1972 and the president's teeth, and others about someone having sex. seems like some politician's always gotta go and fuck somebody and for some reason it's still news. public outraged upon revelation that politician's crotch is not a smooth, featureless area.
bissextile is not a bathroom, or a marriage in massamont. this is news? what side are i on, here? i'm always behind letting whoever do whatever so long as it's comutuated. seems arbitrary, this only-man-and-woman thing. yet: to what end? i keep hearing this discussed from the angles: like over here is a fascinating discussion about it as it relates to unchecked, subjective judicial power (love this whole discussion, though the comments start to re-re-re-repeat themselves like there's a scratch across those grooves.) but what is it somebody wants out of this? a question i haven't heard answered at all. i don't even think i've heard it asked. maybe it's my attention attending to something else. but what will it help for two men, or two women, to be married? i had thought it had to do with taxes or somesuch, but the things i hear about civil unions make it sound like those things confer upon the unionees whatever financial whatsits married couples get. so what gives? what's this thing about? i don't ask with a judgement in mind; i ask because i find it strange that this, what would on the surface appear to me to be the crucial discussion, is not discussed or explained.
i don't know, but those couple in san franfrinko shoulda waited until the 29th and had a bissextile monosexular marriagination. ah the confused face on all their looks, then, as everyone scratches his or her heads in wonderment: what are we wondering? why are bush's teeth in 1972? why is kerry's notmarried maybe partner in overseas somewheres? why are we frightened of dean's scream, what do i hear in there that's better or worse than pilot suits and aerojets on aerojetcarriers? and why was that news, too, and everyone's sexing and military rank and what does this matter?
i'm all astutter astounded, at some point the whole menagerie of stories reaches the rumble of whitenoise, the relative importance of any one thing the same as that of any other thing in that none of it makes a damn. i'm looking to a history book in the not-yet-now, a future postulation of what's going on and none of what i see going on is how it's going to be said to have gone on.
(yet in the face of it i'm still stammering: how is this scattershot caucus/primary garbage helping anything to make any sense? how is this momentum that's tiny in number yet monumentatious in bearing allowed to keep going like this? it is important, right, that we all pick the persons we're going to pick from? so why do some of us in the iowas and the wherever-else's get to choose based on what we think, while others of us have to choose based on what we think we thought and what we think everyone else is likely to think, be thinking, have thought? "gotta choose someone who's gonna be choosed, of course. would that i could choose someone who's gonna do anything i want do'd, but that's not to be." where's the reformer for this?)
the margerine is disguised as butter.
the margerine is dignified as butter.
the dignity is marginally better.
tastes more like regular distilled oil.
this bitterness barely endorphines and barely escapes
but partially hemingspheres
while abusing spaces postured pasteurized out to see the quing
quinging, like storked pentalever, menus discontaining
every piece of seed ever stuck in a tooth.
but integrity, toothlike, encapsulates sad mentions on page fifte(en)
"he boody ken speer a thyme?"
mysteriously the food smells like eventually
don't think that counts as being accurately aware of what's between betweens
(really this claypool cd is excellent, or it matches whatever the fuck's wrong with me right now. he always sounds like this, there's no getting around that, but he's also always coming up with fantastic ways to sound this way. so there's a review as my eyes try resquaring themselves with themselves.)
